


Winter Wonderland

by E_Salvatore



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Klaroline, Mistletoe, Pointless fluff, Tiniest bit of romance, just a smidgen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Caroline and Klaus spend the day together at the Winter Wonderland charity event just because, without hidden agendas or distractions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wonderland

She is a vision in cream, long blonde curls cascading down her back as she scrutinizes a clipboard, calling out orders to her peers, sending them scurrying off with icy looks of disappointment. He doesn't think he's ever seen something so beautiful, even in his thousand years of life.

"Caroline," He steps up to her seconds after the last of the reluctant teenagers has finally disappeared to do her bidding. He holds in his hands his contribution to the Winter Wonderland event, the one she's apparently in charge of.

"Ugh," She rolls her eyes the way she almost always does when he appears, gripping her clipboard just that little bit tighter. "What do you want, Grinch?" She demands, catching him off guard with the seasonal nickname.

He holds up his work. "Oh, I was just here to deliver my contribution for your little party but I'll take off if it's not appreciated." Idle threats come to him easily but usually involve death by some macabre manner, not a petty threat to take away his painting. He hasn't threatened her with death for a while now, though.

She huffs and consults her clipboard – that bloody thing is awfully important today – before sending him off without even a spare glance. "There are tables inside for the artwork, just put it anywhere."

He cocks an eyebrow at her vague directions; they are distinctly out of character for her self-confessed neurotic nature. Perhaps she's just trying to get rid of him, as usual. It upsets him, the way she has fought so hard against them ever since the day of the pageant. It had come as a surprise – nothing much upsets him, save for plots against him and betrayal – but this… this _baby vampire_ rejecting him, Klaus, the Original hybrid, can wipe any and all smiles and grins off his face.

He wonders if she isn't punishing herself – if maybe this is her way of making up for the fact that she'd actually enjoyed his company the other day. They'd had fun, bantering and teasing with the occasional discussion about life thrown in, and at the end of the day, he had genuinely believed their time together – their _date_ – would bring about a change in her firm stance against any sort of relationship between them.

The next day she had gone back to treating him like the Ice Queen herself.

With a disappointed sigh, Klaus turns his back on her and makes his way inside the wretched establishment they call The Grill in this one horse town.

Had he lingered three seconds longer, perhaps he would have noticed the way Caroline's eyes flickered towards his retreating form of their own accord, a tragic kind of sadness and longing clouding her eyes.

* * *

" _Seriously_?" She shrieks in disbelief as yet another freshman consults her on table placements. Leafing through the sheets on her clipboard, she rips out a chart and holds it up. "This," She nearly hisses. "Is a _chart_. There are pictures and words and you have one _right there_." She jabs at the folder the girl is carrying. "Just get it _right_!"

The girl nods, eyes wide and fearful, before tottering away in her heels. Caroline sighs heavily and flops down on a nearby bench; it's not like she _enjoys_ scaring the living crap out of freshmen, or sophomores, or juniors, or… well, okay, all of the volunteer committee. But it's been a long day and Christmas is shaping up to be a disappointment and Klaus, God damn him, is just walking around chatting up random people, being charming and courteous and – _ugh_ , speak of the Devil.

"You're scaring off the children," A familiar, accented voice chides playfully, holding out a champagne flute. She shouldn't; her mom is somewhere around and so are half of the town's adults, the ones who expect her to be Little Miss Perfect, but she isn't Miss Mystic anymore so what the hell? She reaches out for the glass and mutters a thank-you; manners are a sign of good breeding and in this town, it's one of the few things she can pride herself on having.

Klaus sits down next to her and memories of the last time they shared a bench fills her mind. She shifts uncomfortably, putting a little more space between them. He notices – of course he does – and shoots her a wolfish grin.

To her horror, a very unladylike, amused snort escapes her, shattering her cold front. She quickly claps a hand to her lips, turning away from him.

"Penny for your thoughts, love." He bargains, having caught her little slip. She shakes her head and sips on her champagne, wondering if she should stop before she starts making more puns in her mind about Klaus and wolfish things. The first one was completely accidental, though.

Klaus, to her surprise, doesn't press her for an answer, or even attempt to start another conversation. So they sit in silence, which quickly grows awkward. Caroline doesn't like _awkward_ – never has, never will and has spent her life learning how to get out of these situations.

"So, what did you paint?" She asks, keeping her eyes averted from him even as she straightens up, bringing herself a little closer to the hybrid. It's a poor attempt at ending their awkward silence but she sound bubbly and curious enough without being _too_ bubbly and curious. It's always a careful matter of not being too little or too much with Klaus.

He turns to her with a pleased, somewhat surprised expression – probably because she initiated conversation – before his lips curl up in a grin. "You'll have to see for yourself." He says cryptically before rising to his feet. He sets down his glass and holds out a hand which she greets with a quizzical look.

"I could explain it to you, if you'd like." He offers in his usual charming manner. She takes a moment to consider his offer even though it's a no brainer. He's being nice for once. And her friends have told her to maintain a somewhat-friendly relationship with him, just so that he won't catch on immediately when she's playing – she suppresses a wince – Klaus-bait. Besides, who _doesn't_ want the artist himself explaining his work?

So she flashes him a small, hesitant smile, prompting a boyish grin from Klaus. It's odd, sweet and empowering, the way she can affect him. She doesn't take his hand, though. She can get up on her own and she does just that. She has no intention of letting his old-world ways charm her.

If he feels snubbed by her blatant rejection of his help, he doesn't show it. Wordlessly, they begin to make their way towards the Grill just as a large crash reaches their ears.

Caroline turns around instantly, groaning as she catches sight of the fallen Christmas tree.

"Seriously!" She exclaims, throwing up her hands in frustration as she stalks away without a single word to Klaus, who watches as she walks away to handle the latest crisis of the day. She starts reprimanding and ordering three huge men who seem absolutely terrified of her and he can't help the amused grin that tugs at his lips.

Even then, if Caroline had turned around to catch sight of Klaus just before he walked away, she would've seen a tiny flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

* * *

The charity event is in full swing by the time he returns, having left to find something better to do. As usual, there is nothing worth showing up for except whatever it is she is involved in.

He is greeted by several curious, upstanding members of the community and decides to humor them with short conversations; with most of the Council dead and gone, he's expecting a replacement any day now and it wouldn't hurt to charm the potential members first. Most praise and thank him for his contribution, the one he finds Caroline studying.

"Nice snowflake." She speaks up as he approaches her, seemingly aware of their close proximity.

"It's not meant to be taken quite that literally," He explains. "I was going to call it an expression of post-modernism and the likes." _Before we were interrupted by those incompetent beings_.

She laughs shortly, having caught the dry humor in his voice. He's not amused by the fact that she gave up a chance for him to explain his work to deal with a Christmas tree and she is well aware of it. It makes him uncomfortable, the way he's being so easily read. She's disturbed by the fact that she's starting to understand his little expressions and choice of words the way one would a friend's. They lapse into silence for a short while until Caroline sighs.

"It's so lonely." She murmurs, seemingly to herself. Her comment prompts him to take a closer look at the dark scene he'd painted almost absent-mindedly and he is somewhat taken aback by the fact the she is right: the snowflake does look lonely, in a sad way.

He chooses not to dwell on it and tries to provide a distraction so that Caroline won't either. "More champagne?" He offers as she sighs once more and turns away from his painting.

She shakes her head violently before catching herself and plastering on a tight smile instead. "Too many grown-ups," She tells him and he's reminded, once again, of the fact that she isn't even old enough to legally have a drink, never mind the fact that he's seen her walking around with an entire bottle of alcohol at parties. He's also reminded of the fact that she cares about her reputation, that what these small-town people think about her matters to Caroline.

"I don't want to be a high-school cautionary tale," She shrugs, turning around to face him. He takes a moment to mull over her words before shooting her a smile.

"It's a good thing the high school part is nearly over, then." It really is. Soon, she'll come to realize the truth, the one he's told her of repeatedly. Once high school is over, it won't be enough for her to just be Caroline Forbes, resident event planner, golden girl and former Miss Mystic. This small town has never held much for her and once school is no longer a valid reason to stick around, maybe she'll finally realize that she's better off far, far away from this place, seeing the world and experiencing all that it has to offer, preferably with him by her side. He would make an excellent tour guide.

She studies him for a few moments, looking for something. He doesn't know what it is she's searching his eyes for but she seems to find it, conveying her satisfaction with a single nod.

"If we're going to be nice to each other, then I will need that glass of champagne." She tells him decisively and he grins despite himself. A pattern is forming; the last time they had been 'nice to each other' as she phrased it, an entire bottle of alcohol had been involved. Something he's heard countless teenagers talking about comes to mind and he's teasing her before he can even decide whether it's a wise decision.

"Is that our thing?" He jokes, quoting almost every single high-school girl he's had the misfortune of overhearing. Caroline rolls her eyes, not at all impressed by his question and scoffs.

"We don't have a thing." She protests but they can both tell that it's half-hearted. He humors her, letting her live in denial just a while longer and walks away to retrieve some champagne for them since he does want them to get along, no matter what it takes.

There's an open bar and he asks for two glasses, observing the crowd as he waits for their drinks. If he had glanced at Caroline during his inspection of the crowd, he would have noticed the amused smile that graces her lips as she incredulously echoes his words.

"A thing," She scoffs even as her grin grows wider.

* * *

Benches and alcohol - that's their thing. Or she thinks it might be, anyway, because here they are, sitting on a bench, sipping champagne and being civil, far away from prying eyes and disapproving looks.

"So what?" She questions skeptically after he tells her that he isn't usually one for Christmas. "You celebrate Festivus?"

"Festivus?" He echoes with one side of his lips slightly curled upwards, a tell-tale sign of amusement. She enjoys reading him, she finds, and feels a tiny bit of satisfaction whenever she gets him right. Not that she'll ever tell him, or a single living soul.

"You know," She elaborates for his benefit. "Airing of Grievances, Feats of Strength, Festivus pole."

He exhales a little heavily, the way he does when he's amused. "I know what Festivus is, sweetheart." Another thing she won't ever tell a single soul, living or dead: she likes the endearments – _his_ endearments for her.

"So?" She prompts.

"I just don't celebrate it." He replies shortly, offering no alternative answer or explanation.

"Hanukkah?" She guesses, noting the way his eyes light up. "Kwanzaa." She states confidently, barely able to suppress a grin at her own absurdity. He chuckles, that same chuckle she'd first heard the day of the pageant, when he had pulled out her Miss Mystic application. She wonders why he can't be like this more often.

"Sorry to disappoint, love," His chuckles quiet down but the grin remains and his eyes seem to sparkle with mirth. "But I'm not one for the holidays, I'm afraid."

"No," She insists forcefully, getting to her feet with only the slightest difficulty. Just how many glasses has she had? Well, this one's empty so she sets it down and motions for him to get up. He eyes her curiously.

"Come on," She beckons. "I'm going to show you how to celebrate Christmas!" That doesn't seem to be enough for him but he gets up anyway, looking intrigued.

"You're very passionate about Christmas," He notes as she begins to lead them back to the party where children giggle and hold out their cupped hands to catch fake snow.

She shrugs casually, answering him without putting much thought into her words. "You like birthdays, I like Christmas. That's our thing."

She keeps walking as he falters for the briefest of seconds, amazed that she remembers what he'd told her the night he had saved her, when she was on the brink of death and delirious, something that she should, by all accounts, have no memory of.

He's glad that she doesn't notice that he's fallen behind, that she doesn't turn around to check on him because if she had, she would surely have noticed the incredibly stupid, wide grin on his face.

They have _a thing_.

* * *

There's a snowball fight and he refuses to engage in it.

"It's not even real snow," He points out for the seventh time, remaining firm in his decision. Even Caroline's sparkling eyes and childish enthusiasm will not sway him.

"Fine," She shrugs, turning on her heel. His eyes widen as he trails after her.

"That's it?" He asks incredulously. It feels like there's a catch; Caroline has never been one to give up so easily.

"That's it," She nods. "It's not like I can push you into the fight or something. Besides, if the big, bad hybrid doesn't want to play in fake snow, then what can I do about it?" He doesn't like it when she calls him that, or anything that alludes to his usual nature. It's an unwelcome reminder of the fact that they're living in a little bubble now, one that will burst soon enough and leave them on opposing sides once more.

"Never underestimate yourself, Caroline." He says instead, deliberately making eye contact with her. She seems to have an affinity for self-deprecation and he just can't understand it, not when all he sees in her is light and beauty and brilliance. They come to a halt as she remains trapped under his gaze and she gulps softly for some reason. He can never tell what it is with her – if she's scared of him or attracted to him. It's maddening, certainly.

"Okay." She says finally in a small voice and he nods, putting away thoughts of her feelings for him. They're having fun now and that's enough… for now. He shoots her a smile and holds out a hand, motioning for her to keep walking. She eyes him uncertainly for a few brief seconds before resuming her trek towards wherever it is she's leading him. He follows behind, satisfied at this small victory. She doesn't reject his compliments anymore and she shouldn't; they're merely honest observations.

She leads them away from the shrieking children and laughing adults. The lively chatter grows faint and the crowd grows sparse as she keeps walking until they come to a stop in front of the grand tree set up in the town square. It towers above them and most of the surrounding buildings, lighting up the night with thousands of little golden bulbs, standing tall and proud, crowned by a star.

Caroline finds a spot to sit down and sighs softly as she settles down and stares straight ahead at the tree. He sits down next to her, careful to maintain some semblance of respect for her personal space and waits for her to speak.

Soft strains of familiar music reach their ears, telling them that the townspeople have started caroling back at the event. Caroline makes no move to join them or even explain herself and remains unmoving except for the soft smile that slowly graces her face.

Klaus is struck by a sudden urge to paint her; a content smile on her face, untroubled eyes set on fire by flickering lights, golden curls spilling over her shoulders – she's never looked more beautiful.

She starts speaking then, having felt his eyes on her.

"When I was a little girl," She speaks in a soft murmur, as if dazed by the lights. "This was the one day in the year when my parents would make time just for me and bring me here, to watch the lights."

It's a nice story and he's always eager to learn more about her but he can't help but wonder just why her parents, workaholics who barely see her – well, that's what he gathers from the little he's heard and from seeing the Sheriff around town – would go to such lengths just to sit out here and watch flickering lights with their tiny daughter.

"I liked it," She elaborates, as if aware of his curiosity. "Being here all alone, just with my parents, watching the lights and seeing the big tree. It made me feel special." Her smile turns sad and he is unusually pained by this simple changed. "Like there was no one else in the world, just my family and this big, beautiful tree, just for me."

He knows that she struggles with issues of self-esteem and self-worth, that she is frequently and absurdly overshadowed by that boring doppelgänger, that she is painfully aware of how everyone treats her as if she is expandable. He hasn't lived this long without gaining powerful skills of observation.

Sitting here with Caroline, the real Caroline as he had first seen her the night he had saved her, vulnerable and human and utterly _her_ , makes him feel genuinely sad for the first time in many years. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to be used and unloved, to doubt her worth and feel _not_ special.

"You _are_ special, Caroline." He tells her after the longest pause. Neither of them turns to face the other, keeping their eyes on the dancing lights. She doesn't say anything but from the periphery of his vision, he sees her eyes clear up and shine brightly, the way he likes them to.

Eventually, after the caroling has died down and the Mayor has made her speech, Caroline giggles. He can't help himself then – he turns to her immediately, already smiling despite the fact that he has no idea what she's happy about. The sound of her being happy makes him smile. It's a foreign thought, that someone else's happiness could be instrumental in bringing about his own.

"What is it?" He inquires almost laughingly and she shakes her head, still giggling lightly.

"Congratulations," She announces grandly, finally tearing her eyes away from the tree. "You've officially had a normal Christmas."

His smile remains even as he waits for her to explain herself.

"There's nothing more Christmas-y than sitting around staring at lights." She tells him, her eyes dancing with joy.

"Ah," He nods in comprehension. "Is that so, Miss Forbes?" He asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, offering him a hand. Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are rosy, and she appears to be completely unaware of the hand she's holding out to him. He takes it and lets her pull him to his feet.

"It is, Mister Mikaelson." She nods before a blush colors her complexion as her eyes land upon their linked hands. She drops hers immediately as he shoots her a wide smile and turns around, leading the way back to the winter wonderland she had worked so hard to set up all week.

They walk in silence, passing tinsel and lights, snowmen and reindeer as they head back to the Grill. As they pass the florist's, a tiny sprig catches his eye and he stops walking, causing her to slow down before turning around to face him with a questioning look.

"I may not be an expert on Christmas," He states, unable to suppress a grin. "But I believe this is part of the traditions." He nods upwards, pointing out the small piece of greenery that he recognizes as mistletoe.

"Oh," Caroline gasps almost reflexively, having noticed that he's standing just under the offensive holiday decoration. And she is just two steps away from him.

"It _is_ Christmas, Caroline." He points out lightly, almost teasingly. She hesitates, remaining in her spot as she nibbles on her bottom lip. Her blush returns once more, borrowed blood rushing to her cheeks.

She appears to mutter something under her breath – something that even he can't make out – before meeting his eyes. He gives her a challenging look that's not nearly as effective coupled with the grin he wears but it seems to do the trick as Caroline rolls her eyes and steps forward, causing his breath to hitch.

She's actually going to-

Caroline pecks him on his cheek, her lips lingering for just two seconds too long before she pulls back minutely, her lips hovering next to his flushed skin.

"Merry Christmas, Klaus."

She jumps away and quickly turns around, resuming her walk. He notes, absent-mindedly, that her pace seems to have quickened just the slightest bit. He doesn't make anything of it though; he's too busy shaking off the last few seconds that have put him in a daze.

He watches her walk away, bursting their bubble as she returns to her friends, her life, their reality. But this time he'll have something more than memories of her laughing at her own Miss Mystic application to tide him through until their next date. He wonders if that's her gift to him – it is Christmas, after all.

He'll have to get her something too, something that is equal to the memory of her lips on his skin, her hair tickling his jaw, her body invading his space. He finds himself deep in thought, standing on a sidewalk pondering gift ideas. So deep in thought, in fact, that he doesn't notice the fact that Caroline has returned, that she has a mischievous grin on her lips and the flying projectile that she aims at him until it hits him square in the chest.

A snowball. Of fake snow. The kind he had refused to be involved with.

Caroline giggles as she disappears around a corner, leaving him with no explanation for her childish actions. He doesn't quite mind - in fact, he finds himself smiling at the dark corner where she had disappeared from sight, calling after her in a soft, content voice.

"Merry Christmas, Caroline."

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Klaroline fic and sadly, remains my only Klaroline fic. I wrote this back in 2012 and a lot has changed since then. I still ship this ship as hard as one can ship a ship, but I stopped watching the show a long time ago and as such, haven't been particularly motivated to write more for these two. Someday, maybe.


End file.
